


breathe if you still can

by sometimesiwrite



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesiwrite/pseuds/sometimesiwrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bash had enamored with Mary since the moment he laid eyes on her, but he has been far away from her for too long. When he learns that Mary has agreed to marry Francis, he races back to stop the wedding. But when he discovers the reason behind her decision, can he find the strength to do what’s best for Mary and let her go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathe if you still can

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago, before Aylee died and Mash-y stuff happened. This is definitely not canon compliant oops.

Bash tore through the woods, nearly breaking his horse’s neck as he urged her faster. He and Midnight shared a special bond, and he could feel her weariness in his own bones. Combined with his own exhaustion, it was nearly enough to kill them both. But he had been riding for 5 days straight, and there was no way he could stop now. Not when he was less than 10 minutes away from the castle where he grown up, an unwanted stranger with unholy blood coursing through his body.

           5 months he had spent on the Scottish Border. Supposedly at the orders of his father, but he knew that Francis and Diane had played a huge part in that. He internally rolled his eyes, wondering if Catherine knew how much her son and her husband’s mistress had in common with their single-minded pursuit of keeping Bash as far away from Mary as possible.

Mary. Bash shut his eyes, trying to forget the contents of the letter that Lola had sent to him. But he couldn’t. He had the words engraved in his brain.

_… She has agreed to marry him, Bash. And she claims that she loves him, but she is terribly unhappy. I hear her cry every night. I cannot let her do this. Not just because she is my queen, but because she is my friend…_

He would never forgive Francis. He had no idea what Francis could have said or done to make her agree to this, but he would never be able to forgive his brother for this.

_… And she is your friend, too. Maybe more, if what they say is true…_

It was truer than they knew, he thought to himself, as he remembered the way Mary had breathed below him, his skin bare on hers in the barn, where Francis had consummated his relationship with Olivia long ago. They could have set the hay on fire with the heat between their gazes.

_… Her heart belongs to you and if there is a part of you that may be able to return that love, then you must come home and save her…_

If there was a part? His world revolved around that Scottish beauty. She owned him, body and soul. He was a slave to her every demand, her every whimper, her every smile.

_… Take her away. Far away. I care not for Scotland’s future anymore. It will get by, the way it always has. But she is about to break. And I cannot have that on my conscience…_

He could not have that, period. Scotland would have to get by.

_Come quickly._

The letter had been dated 3 weeks after he had left. More than 4 months had passed since then, but the letter had only reached him 5 days ago. It had apparently gotten lost somewhere, but he cared not for why it had taken so long for it to reach him.  He only knew that he had no more time to waste. If that unholy union had not taken place yet, then it must be stopped immediately.

And if it already had…

He refused to think about it. Mary would have held out, he decided. She was wily, he thought proudly. She would have refused Francis for as long as she could and delayed the union until Bash arrived.

The castle appeared before his eyes.

Midnight didn’t need any urging to go faster. It was as though she had realized that the torture was almost over. She raced to the gates of the castle.

Bash dismounted and was immediately approached by a stable boy.

“Get her some food,” Bash ordered and flipped a coin at the boy as he ran into the castle. He raced down the familiar stretch of hallway. He’d once stumbled these hallways, half inebriated with an equally drunk Mary, shushing her quiet giggles as they unlaced their clothing on their way to her room.

“Don’t do it,” he panted, flinging her doors open. It didn’t quite have the effect he was looking for. Instead of finding a heartbroken Mary, alone on the floor, he found her sitting on her bed, laughing, her ladies-in-waiting surrounding her.

Her face changed the second she saw him. The smile left her eyes as she stood. But he wasn’t looking at her face anymore.

He wasn’t sure what he noticed first: the giant diamond glittering on her finger, or the way her stomach extended out from underneath her shawl.

“Bash,” her breath seemed to have gotten caught in her throat somewhere as she watched the grown man slump to his knees. With unseeing eyes, he saw Greer stand beside her queen to keep her upright while Lola rushed towards him, gently urging him upwards, whispering, “Be strong. For her.”

Mary had regained her composure by the time Bash found the strength to rise again and kneel to her, “My queen.”

He didn’t move a single muscle in his still shocked face as he lightly touched her hand to his lips.

“Bash,” she smiled, her eyes watering, “I have missed you.”

Bash didn’t say anything.

“Come, sit with us,” Mary waved him over to the sofa in the corner, “Aylee, will you be a dear and ask the kitchen to-“

“Why?” he managed to choke out.

Next to Mary, Lola’s eyes widened and Greer began to shake her head vigorously.

Mary’s eyes, however, remained impassive. There had been a time when Bash could guess the nature of her thoughts just by looking at her, but today she was a stranger to him.

“Come take a walk with me,” she said, evenly. Bash recognized her voice. It was her queen voice. She used it when she was infuriated or upset and wanted to disguise it. She used it to reassure her subjects or lie to fellow royalty.

She had never before used it with him.

“My Lady!” Aylee cried out, “You cannot leave the castle! Not in your-”

“Bash shall care for me,” Mary reassured the young blonde in a motherly manner before gliding toward Bash.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the three ladies-in-waiting frown worriedly, but he offered Mary an arm.

She smiled up at him, but it did not quite reach her eyes, “Let’s go to the courtyard, Bash.”

That smile, the one he had been in love with, was not the one he was seeing at the moment. It had changed.

Everything had changed.

5 months ago, had he been given the chance to be alone with Mary for longer than a second, he would have taken full advantage of it. Now, however, she belonged to Francis and carried his child, a fact Bash was painfully reminded of every time his elbow brushed against her waist.

“Past the courtyard. Into the woods,” Mary muttered underneath her breath, her breath coming out in pants, “I don’t want anyone to overhear.”

Bash glanced at her sharply. Her words were innocuous enough. After all, no married woman wanted to be caught with a man she had once started rumors with, but it was her tone that belied a darker concern.

“Does he have people watching you at all times?” Bash murmured back.

She laughed bitterly, “Not Francis. Catherine.”

Catherine. The name was still bitter on his tongue, but he felt a kinship to her. She still wanted this marriage over, the same way he did.

They passed the courtyard and strolled into the woods. Mary was breathing heavily and Bash finally brought her to a stop, “I don’t think you should be walking this much in you-”

“If I hear the words ‘in your condition’ on more time, I will have the speaker beheaded!” Mary snapped. Her eyes widened and she automatically blushed, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me… I just… I’m sorry.”

Bash wanted to tell her that he didn’t mind that outburst. Not one bit. He loved the fact that he had ruffled her feathers because she had finally dropped the cold queen demeanor and he had seen the light in her eyes. He wanted to tell her that her blush made his blood boil with desire and that he could still feel the fire burning beneath her every word.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her and that he always would, no matter whose hand she’d taken in marriage.

But those weren’t the words that came out of his mouth.

“Why?” he asked instead, “I deserve to know, Mary. Is it because he did something? Did he threaten you? Did he hurt you in any manner?”

Mary shook her head, her eyes overflowing with tears.

“What happened, Mary?” Bash persisted, “I need to know. What did I do wrong?”

Mary opened her mouth to speak and then shook her head, sobbing quietly into her hand.

“Tell me. Please,” he begged.

“You left!” she cried out, “You left when I needed you most!”

Bash felt his heart grow cold. His blood stopped boiling. It froze in his veins instead. he didn’t want to hear the rest anymore.

“I sent letters. Hundreds of them. Greer snuck them out and posted them. I begged you to come back. I needed you. And you never replied.”

“I never got them,” Bash whispered.

Mary nodded, “I had a feeling.”

Bash closed his eyes.

“I said yes to Francis,” Mary enunciated each word clearly, “because I realized I was with child.”

Bash’s eyes flew open.

“Your child,” Mary dropped her voice.

Bash wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to laugh. But he didn’t. He was rooted to his spot, and Mary’s haunted eyes were the ones holding him there.

“I married Francis so our child would be considered legitimate.”

Bash shut his eyes again, and let the feel of her voice wash over him. It hurt him.

“My time was running out, Bash,” her voice pleaded with him, begged him to understand, “If I began to show before I was properly wedded, I would have been be ruined. Our child would have be ruined. Scotland would have be ruined.”

He wished he could turn back time. He wished he could have been there. For her. For their child.

Perhaps he could have said something, done something, changed something...

As though she was reading his thoughts, Mary gently continued, “We knew it was inevitable, Bash. We knew we were living on borrowed time and stolen kisses. It never could have been. I belonged to Francis since I was 6. I had to marry him, no matter what. For Scotland’s sake. You being by my side would have changed nothing.”

His heart clenched at her words, “Does Francis know?”

“That I carry your child? No,” she whispered, “I know what you’re thinking, Bash. You’re thinking that we could tell him. That he would set me aside. That I would be free to remarry. And we could, Bash. We could do all of that. But then what? I would marry you, but my reputation would already be ruined. As a queen, I would have not only a scandal, but also a possible war with France and England on my hands. Our child would be declared illegitimate anyway, since it was not conceived within the confines of our marriage. And you know better than anyone what that is like. So tell me this, Sebastian: Is that what you want for your child?”

Being illegitimate was a terrible card that life had dealt him. But would he rather that his child be caged the way Francis had been caged, in a life of luxury but no adventure?

“What I want for our child,” Bash spoke carefully, “is for it to grow up in a house of love. Mary, do you love Francis?”

“Francis loves me,” Mary said evenly.

“But do you love him?” Bash persisted.

“What do you want me to say?” Mary cried out, “I could tell you yes, that I do love him, but it would be a lie and neither of us would be fooled. Or I could tell you no, I don’t, and you could spend the rest of your days with a reaffirmation of my everlasting love for you, but nothing else. Not even hope. Because there is simply no way for us, Bash. It can never be. You must realize that.”

“I do,” Bash whispered so quietly that his voice could not cover up the inaudible breaking of their hearts, “I do realize that.”

Mary shut her eyes. She had wanted him to insist that there was another way, he realized. She had wanted him to fix the mess they had created together, in their irresponsible and uncaring youth.

But he couldn’t. There was nothing left. He was tired. The man who had loved a queen that could not belong to him was a foolish youth and Bash felt lifetimes away from that naive boy. The love persisted, but the foolish strength to fight for it was gone.

He could not think of a single thing that would fix their situation. The odds against them were insurmountable. He could take Mary, and her country and their child would suffer. Or he could let her go and watch her rule over her people the way she ruled over his heart. He could watch her raise their child, a child that would… Bash’s eyes widened in horror.

“Mary,” Bash whispered urgently, “If this child is a boy, and Francis considers our child his first-born then…”

“Then he will one day rule a country he has no right to rule,” Mary whispered, “I know.”

Bash moaned, “Mary, it is one thing to lie to Francis, but if the crown is ever called into question, we will all be ruined. Not just you and this child and Scotland, but the House of Valois-Angoulême and all of France as well.”

“I know,” Mary whispered, “I know.”

“What shall we do?” Bash wanted to rip his hair out. His loyalty to his country and to his family, no matter how much he despised them at times, would never allow him to go through with this lie. And yet, his loyalty to Mary and their unborn child would never allow him to expose it.

“We shall pray,” Mary whispered, “for a girl as kind as her father, as loyal to France as her Uncle Francis, as…”

“... as beautiful as her mother…” Bash whispered back.

“As brave as her father…”

“As cunning as her mother…”

Mary broke down and shook her head.

“Mary,” Bash whispered gently, “Look at me, please. “

Mary looked up, raw pain evident in her eyes.

“You must promise me something.”

“Do not ask me for anything else,” she broke down, “I have nothing left. I have given you up and now I have nothing at all.”

“Please,” he begged, “One last thing.”

She shut her eyes and nodded, tears flowing freely now.

“Be happy. No matter what. Smile everyday. For me and for this child. And when she is born, this beautiful daughter of yours...” Bash pulled her chin towards him, and kissed her jawline, “Tell her that her Uncle Bash...” the words tasted bitter on his tongue but he forced them out, “loves her. Remind her that everyday...” his lips pressed against the edge of her cheek as he whispered into her ear, “and give her the love that I will never be able to.”

Bash pulled away gently, but Mary continued to clutch his collar.

“I promise,” she whispered, “and you must promise me something too.”

“Anything.”

“Forget me.”

“Anything but that.”

“Then forgive me.”

He did not respond with his voice. He kissed her with as much passion as he could muster and she kissed him back equally fiercely. No words were exchanged, but they both knew this was the final time anything would happen between them.

He memorized the feel of her silky hair in his hands and the curve of her belly against his own. He kissed those lips and tried to sear it into his memory so he would never forget the way she tasted. She pulled away first, and attempted to wipe away her tears.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, “I’ll see you back at the castle.”

She turned to go, but glanced back once more before disappearing.

His knees gave out and he sank to the ground.

I’ll see you back at the castle.

He had essentially promised Mary that he would not interfere with the way things would play out for their child.

But could he do it? Go back to the castle and watch Francis fawn over his queen and his child, publicly, the way Bash longed to do?

Worse, and his stomach twisted with this thought, would he be able to stand watching that child grow old and call Francis “Father?”

Not at the moment, he decided, but maybe someday.

Someday, he would have the strength to watch Mary and their daughter’s happiness, even as he knew that he could never be a part of that happiness. Someday, his daughter and Francis’s son would play with each other and he would have the strength to love them both as he had loved their mother. Someday, he would have the strength to return to the castle that he had spent his youth hating, and settle his debts and fight his demons.

Until then, he would walk back to the castle and whistle for Midnight. They would spend a week at a tavern where Midnight could rest and he could drink away the pain in his heart. Then they’d return to the Scottish Border, at a more leisurely pace this time.

He’d stay there and spend every day praying for Mary to deliver a girl. And when she did, he’d return, his heart stitched up hastily, ready to face the horrors the castle held for him.


End file.
